


Negotiations

by SparklingDragonTears



Series: Partners [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Conversations, Corporal Punishment, Gen, M/M, ShinRa Mafia, Training, Turks (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: During recruit evaluation, Rude is invited to watch with Tseng.He's not stupid, he knows Tseng is trying to get him to mentor.Specifically with the redheaded punk he'd just dragged from a Sector 4 Slum gang.*Just after Red Chapter 1, Before Reaction.
Relationships: Reno & Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Rude & Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Series: Partners [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711810
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Negotiations

They stood overlooking the two-way mirror above the Turk training room. Tseng was observing the new recruits and had asked Rude to join him. He had the distinct feeling he knew why, as Tseng scratched notes on his pad of paper.

“What do you think of them?” Tseng asked, not taking his eyes off of the potential students below, showing off whatever it was they knew for evaluation.

“Seven? More than usual,” Rude noted, folding his arms over his chest and watching Red flip a man twice his size to the floor, ducking away from the large hands grabbing at him. The kid wore a lazy grin that said this was _easy_ for him.

“Yes, well, historically, our numbers have been declining, so we thought we would try something different.” Tseng sighed, like it hadn’t been his choice to do so, although Rude knew that the decision was about 50% his influence regardless. “Each of us picked two, and the President approved them.”

Rude narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. Veld, Tseng, and Miko made for six. 

“Who will mentor them?” He asked suspiciously. Tseng and Veld hadn’t taken a recruit in years and Miko hadn’t taken anyone since himself.

“Lower agents, of course.” One corner of his lips was turned up and Rude was just waiting for the offer that was quite obviously lingering. “With four retiring this year, some of our agents will be without partners. Greater incentive for training to go well.”

“And the rest?” Rude prompted, feeling his jaw tighten. He sure as hell wasn’t going to offer if Tseng wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I’ll stick the best of the older ones with the agents losing partners.” Tseng noted, tilting his head and scratching some notes. “Mark and Henry want to become officers, so they’ll be taking two.”

Rude frowned. Now that he’d pointed it out, most of the recruits appeared to be in their early-to-mid twenties, save for Red and some kid who looked barely 14. 

“Which two?” Rude had to trust his life to Mark and Henry, but trusted very little else about them. He’d never liked them. They worked in different sectors whenever possible and truth be told, Rude had always suspected they were the reason for several of the Female Turks leaving so abruptly. He was pretty sure they were only around because they had a habit of running into danger and rescuing fallen agents. Worthy Turk behavior, but that was about it. A crawling feeling crept up his neck at the thought that Red might get stuck with one of them. He could tell already that he was too smart-mouthed and quick to be saddled with the likes of them. He’d quite possibly drive them to beat him to death.

“I’m thinking the kid and the blonde.” Tseng was very obviously stringing Rude along and he was quickly losing patience for it.

They watched for a minute as the recruits were instructed to pick a weapon from the wall to show what they were best with. Rude noted that the guns and brass knuckles were the first to go. 

He also noticed that Red had picked up a simple nightstick. He was reminded of the metal rod the kid had swung from his fingertips the first time he’d seen him.

“Why’s that little kid here anyway? He’s barely hit puberty.” Rude huffed, nodding at the youngest, who didn’t seem to have any idea which end of a bat to hold, running his fingers over the weapons lining the walls with interest.

“Vice President’s nephew.” Tseng scoffed. “Not my pick.”

“He’ll never make it.” Rude said, watching him pick up a plain piece of wire. 

“We’ll see,” Tseng answered, but sounded very much like he agreed.

They fell silent as they watched the five heavily padded SOLDIER training officers take the recruits one at a time to fight with them. Rude had to admit, it was somewhat spectacular. He’d never so much as watched another training since his own, as he strongly disagreed with the more brutal of the methods used. But watching now, he saw an appreciation for their job from a new perspective. Each of these kids had been hand-chosen by the best of the agency for sheer raw talent in one form or another. 

The guns were full of paint, not bullets, but the two who had chosen them had been quick to set a colorful splatter onto each and every training officer’s forehead or heart before a single one could take them down. Both had obviously grown up Plate kids, moving with a dignity that said they'd earned their spots here.

The young woman who’d chosen a painted collapsible knife was tall, but flexible. She rolled and dodged grabs at her long hair with ease, sinking the knife ‘blade’ into one officer’s back, before pulling back and side-swiping the one coming at her from behind. She left a blue streak across his guts and would have made her escape if the man who’d been ‘stabbed’ had stayed down. He pulled her from behind and slammed her head into the ground. She blinked heavily for a full minute before standing. 

The first kid with brass knuckles was obviously a street fighter, another slum kid, while the other had very precise movements that showed years of intensive martial arts training. 

Rude was man enough to admit he’d been wrong about the VP’s nephew. Even he had seen the fire light up his eyes when his turn came. The kid would have cut though limbs if the officers hadn’t had thick padding. As it was, his arms popped with previously unseen muscle as he yanked hard enough to tear through one man’s arm, stuffing spewing like fluffy blood. He clearly needed practice with his surroundings, as he was easily taken out from behind, perhaps the only thing that stopped him from cutting through the man’s actual skin.

And then there was Red. Rude could see from even where they were that some of the officers had a distain for him, his tattoos and track marks labeling him from the moment he stepped in the room. His heart jumped a little when Red grinned, not for the kid, but for the officers.

Rude and Tseng both watched, entranced, as the kid moved the stick as an extension of his own limbs. He was _fast_. With the bulk of their padding, there was no way the officers, even with their years in SOLDIER, could have kept up with him. He ran around them, laying half-assed blows on knees and shoulders, ducking away from drawn weapons and thrown fists. It was when three came at him at once that he got serious, Rude could see the shift on his face even from the distance. 

Reno narrowly dodged a foot to the temple as another yanked him down by the collar from behind. His eyes blazed and Rude almost wondered whether they still had a mako after-glow. He swung the weapon, hard, the first real strike. It landed it’s target, across the face of the officer who’d dragged him down, immediately splitting open the man’s nose and releasing a gush of blood, bright red against the white padding. The man let go and Reno sprung up, swinging the rod with the movement, colliding with the hand shooting toward his chin at his side. The angle of bone on the officer’s wrist said it was broken. As he continued his momentum around his body, the officer on the other side of him barely avoided a blow to the eye, instead, it continued to his chest, knocking him backward with the force of it. Reno actually _jumped_ , a wild move Rude would never have dreamed of, and knocked the man to the ground, straddling his chest and shoving the end of the nightstick into his mouth, fist poised over the handle to knock his teeth out.

He froze in place, watching the other officers come to a stop around him, daring them to step closer. Rude watched his thin chest rise and fall with heavy breaths.

As he stared, it occurred to Rude that the kid was left handed.

Tseng abruptly stood and rapped three times on the glass. He pressed a button on his collar, which Rude realized a bit too late was a microphone into the room.

“ _Enough._ ” Echoed through the glass. 

Reno looked up at the window and withdrew his weapon, holding his hands up passively. One officer grabbed the redhead by the shoulder and yanked the nightstick from his hand, shoving him back toward the others. He went without a fight, a small smirk in place.

“ _Move on to written knowledge._ ” Tseng instructed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

Rude watched the group begin to move through a door on the side of the training room, the two injured officers lingering behind to leave to the infirmary. He didn’t miss the bright eyes flicking up at the window once more on his way out.

“Well?” Tseng asked, raising an eyebrow at Rude. “What do you think of him?”

Rude scowled and leaned back against the glass to watch his boss.

“I think he’s gonna get himself killed.” He answered honestly. Tseng smiled, like he’d been hoping for the answer.

“Killed by whom?” He prodded further.

“Whoever takes him on, if the officers don’t get to him first.” Rude knew the answer was obvious, and resented the man for stringing him along. 

“You know they won’t, he’s better than all of them.” Tseng flipped his hand in dismissal of the argument. “His mentor, however… could be an issue.”

Tseng tilted his head, watching Rude stare him down.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” Tseng asked bluntly. Rude shook his head, but ground his teeth. Of course he would. He’d known it since the first time the brat opened his mouth.

“Damnit, Tseng, you know he’s perfect.” Rude grunted. “If he doesn’t get himself kicked out.” He hesitated and added, “Don’t give him to Mark or Henry. It’ll be a waste.”

“How so?” Tseng raised an eyebrow again, something Rude was ready to slap off his face. He took a breath and sighed through his nose. Every now and then he had to school himself that Tseng was as much a superior as he was his friend. 

“He’ll quit before they break him.” Rude couldn’t help the ice in his voice. He hated thinking that such talent might be lost because of those assholes. 

It went without saying that one didn’t just _quit_ the Turks.

“Then who do you propose?” Tseng pointed his pencil at Rude, waiting for an answer, an offer that Rude was not going to give willingly.

“Any-fucking-one else.” Rude snapped, ignoring the narrow-eyed warning. “I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not doing it.”

Tseng sighed and sat back in his chair, looking out over the empty room.

“Next year, the powers are shifting, as you know.” He glanced up to be sure this didn’t catch Rude by surprise. Of course it didn’t. There was a reason Rude was one of the best, his mentor/partner was the first pick to move up. “Veld, myself and Miko will be the top three of the Turks. That makes you number four.”

Rude swallowed tightly. Of course he knew that. He also knew that would put him as a lone agent. A lone agent with a decade of experience, a _senior_ agent, with no one to watch his back. And while he was only 26, still young and fast and strong, that would put him in an extremely prestigious, extremely dangerous position. 

“Why not?” The dark-haired man asked, a curiosity in his voice. Rude had always refused to take a mentee, but had never explained it to anyone but Miko.

Never mind that Miko was half of the reason.

He turned his face away, not quite sure he wanted Tseng to try to figure him out.

“I have enough scars of my own, think I want more for this punk?” Rude grumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“Ahh, but that’s not the whole truth, is it?” 

Rude could hear the amusement on the man’s voice. He refused to look up.

“You’re afraid,” Tseng drawled his words out slowly, very unlike himself, _taunting_ him. “You don’t want to end up like Miko… Like _me._ ”

Rude finally looked up through his eyelashes, shooting a glare through his dark glasses at the man. He was right, of course. Tseng’s favorite instrument of correction was a thin bullwhip, Miko’s was that damned wooden cane. Although the men were his closest confidants, he’d been on the wrong end of either of their implements more times than he could count. He’d hoped the day never came when he chose his own favorite.

“You said it yourself,” Tseng continued, much more gently. “He’s perfect.”

Rude sighed through his nose, feeling his resolve crumbling. He thought hard, considering what would happen to the kid if he let this go, what could happen to himself if he took him on. 

What they would be like when they became partners.

He turned to leave, clenching his fists. Tseng silently watched him stalk to the door. 

He stopped at the threshold.

“I’m not beating him.” Rude demanded without turning around.

“Fine.”

“No one else hits him either.” He was suddenly worried for the little punk. He knew that sharp tongue was going to get them both in trouble until the day they died. 

He wasn’t sure whether he was more afraid for Reno, or for whoever dared to make him bleed.

“As long as he’s not formally sentenced,” Tseng agreed easily.

“Hm.” Rude paused another moment. This would be his only chance to negotiate. “ _I_ keep him in line, he’s mine.”

“Your responsibility, your consequences.” Tseng warned, not that Rude didn’t already know that. “Street kids are hard to mold.” 

Rude was quiet a moment, Tseng patiently waiting him out.

“Anything else?” The man finally prompted, when Rude sighed for the third time.

“Yeah,” Rude breathed out shakily. “I’m not making him like us. He’ll be better his way.”

He heard the grin in Tseng’s reply.

“There’s a reason I chose you.”

Rude walked out the door without another word, wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
